Your Life Ends
by CitrusChickadee
Summary: Bernadetta lets a little too much slip to Jeritza over lunch, and he takes matters into his own hands. Crimson Flower one shot, slight AU.


**Author's Note:** Someday I'll write something that isn't Jeritza-centric. Today is not that day. Still, I'm pretty sure this is what we all _wanted_ to happen when the Jeritza/Bernie supports were patched in, right?

* * *

**Your Life Ends**

"We're not that different, really. I mean, if you think about it…I just take things out on myself instead of everyone else."

Jeritza blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know…" Bernadetta mumbled. "It's like…with the not-great history and stuff…that is… I mean, I'm sorry if I'm wrong! I'm wrong, aren't I? I knew it—"

She trailed off into one of her typical nervous rambles, though Jeritza frowned as the suggestion swirled around in his head. It wasn't hard to imagine that Bernadetta had overheard Mercedes calling him 'Emile' at some point. Also, most people knew that Emile von Bartels was suspected of killing his family. There was a record of it in the library, even; Jeritza had nearly panicked when he'd noticed it, even though there hadn't been anyone at the monastery when he'd first arrived who would've recognized him.

Still, it wasn't hard to imagine that Bernadetta had put two and two together, and then come up with some of her own theories on why _that_ had happened. Jeritza had no intention of filling her in on all the details, but he could nonetheless see how she'd come up with her own conclusions. And with her 'not-great histories' remark, it was…_also_ easy for him to come up with some ideas of his own.

In Bernadetta's case, nearly everyone had heard rumors about Count Varley's reclusive daughter. Imperial nobles and gossip circles had often whispered about how the girl must've been cursed in some way or another. The year Bernadetta had arrived at Garreg Mach, the students had sometimes chatted about how she never left her room, so she _must've_ been up to something creepy in there.

_'We're not that different.'_ Jeritza's fingers subconsciously tightened around his teacup. The implication very much seemed to be that her issues were somehow related to her family. And if Count Varley was even _half_ as bad a parent as his own father was, it was honestly a miracle that Bernadetta's issues weren't even worse than they were.

"Who did it?"

Bernadetta cut herself off, mouth still hanging open. She cocked her head to the side, blinking at him for a few seconds. Then, she swallowed nervously and shook her head.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You said it yourself that we aren't so different. _Who caused that_?" Jeritza repeated.

His hands twitched again, as if reaching for a weapon that wasn't there, and something finally seemed to click in Bernadetta's head.

"Please don't hurt my mother; she didn't do anything wrong," Bernadetta whispered. "I mean, she did _some_ things wrong, but not enough to—"

Jeritza stood up silently, left the (fortunately almost-empty) dining hall, and headed for the stables. Upon finding his scythe and horse, he was gone.

* * *

Bernadetta had gotten better about leaving her room lately, but she couldn't bring herself to do it as much the next couple of days. What had she done? She'd put ideas into Jeritza's head, she knew it. Why had she said _any_ of that to him?

She paced circles into her rug, sure that whatever happened was going to be her fault.

* * *

Bernadetta's heart almost stopped when she heard some imperial soldiers talking a few days later.

"Did you hear? Count Varley turned up dead just outside his estate recently."

"Wasn't he on house arrest? I thought the emperor stripped him of his power a while back."

"She did, and that's the weirdest thing. No one's sure who killed him yet, but they went out of their way to kill him and him alone. His wife and servants seem to be all right—it's like they just dragged him outside and murdered him there."

Her breath hitched as she processed the conversation. He'd done it—he'd actually _done it_. It was all her fault. People would find out somehow, and they'd blame her, and—

No. It was fine. It would be fine. Unless she or Jeritza said anything about it, no one would have to know. Right?

* * *

Bernadetta knew that a _normal_ person wouldn't be happy about something like that. She really should've been more upset than she was. But, when she thought back to being at home, and the sheer _panic_ she'd always felt at the sight of her father, she couldn't help it.

Once the shock wore off, she was _relieved_.

Eventually, she found Jeritza near the knights' quarters. He'd been staring at something off in the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Still, he'd heard her approach, and Bernadetta looked down and nervously tugged at her hair.

Finally, she managed a quiet, "Thank you."

"Mm. You're welcome."

And she wasn't quite sure, but Bernadetta thought there was a hint of relief in Jeritza's voice as well.


End file.
